No Peace
by Antivertigo
Summary: The detective had promised himself, never again. But he was a fool one last time. -There was silence on the line, the only thing he could hear was the ticking of his clock and the background noise of the station over the phone. "Did something happen? I mean, you looked like someone stole all your puppies and shot them." " . . . No. I'm okay."- I'm a Shassie person. Deal wit' it.


Hi there, it's been a while, especially since I've posted in this fandom. And I have to say that this is a first. Up until this point, I have never written something based off of things that have happened to me, but these have and you wouldn't believe how struck I am by how similar I am to Lassiter (minus the right wing Republican-ness). This just made a lot of sense to do today.

Also, I'll apologise - there are flashbacks. -GASP- I know, right? I tried to make it work correctly without being too cliché about it. I think it came out alright.

* * *

Fourteen year old Carlton Lassiter sat at the kitchen counter of his childhood home, trying to polish off a glass of orange juice. Today had not been a good day. Nor a good week. Maybe not even a month. He realized things generally sucked for him on a daily basis, the pressures of working a job after school, taking care of Lauren, trying to keep up with schoolwork, and being at least partially sane all took their toll one way or another. But this? How was he expected to cope with this?

He leaned forward on the counter, black head of hair in one hand, and turning the cold glass with the other. Bright blue eyes stared into the side, inside distorted by collecting moisture. He'd paid for the carton himself, as well the bread, milk, and eggs. And a bit of candy he'd hidden away for Lauren.

He heard the front door open and considered making a retreat before his mom found him moping in the kitchen, but she came in with a sigh and in a world of her own problems. She might not notice him for a few minutes. Not surprising. Carlton wasn't the type to make a lot of noise as it was, so sitting stock still and concentrating on his breathing was not difficult. Unfortunately, he only counted out seventeen breaths before his mother made a noise of surprise.

"Oh, Carlton. There you are. You scared me a little."

The boy nodded in reply, going back to turning the glass and wishing he'd left instead.

" . . Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah." He replied, automatically. He was great at being okay.

She came over, not quite standing in his space and refraining from touching him. "You sure?"

"Yes," He sighed. He might as well tell her, she'd fidget and look at him worriedly until he explained. After gulping down some orange juice, he set the glass down with a clink and looked at her with a morose set to his customary frown. "You remember Shana?"

"Shana who was staying at your cousin's house Shana?"

"Yeah. We, um . . ." How was he supposed to say this? There didn't really seem to be any right way to say it. "We kind of . . did it. Before I came back."

His mom looked stunned for a moment. "Did it?"

"Yes."

"As in you had sex?"

Burning heat rose in his face and he looked away. "Yes."

She was silent for maybe a minute, then, "Were you careful?"

"Of course we were." God this was embarrassing. He really should've just walked away, kept his mouth shut.

"Okay, then . . . why do you look so sad?"

He sighed, turning away from the counter finally. "We . . we're not together. Anymore." A hot wave of shame just as burning as the blush in his face threatened to overcome him. This whole thing was going to eat him from the inside out.

"Oh. _Ohhh_, honey you had your first love!" She sounded so excited.

Is that what it was? He eyed her with baby blues narrowed. "You think so?"

"Yes, that's what it sounds like. Oh I'm so happy for you, baby boy!"

He didn't understand. Why was she happy? This hurt, perhaps more than he could bear. This wasn't something to celebrate. It was more like something he should mourn.

Thankfully, she didn't ask why they'd broken up, only came over to give him a hug. "It'll be alright, okay?"

Carlton nodded and pulled away, heading towards his room where no one would bother him for a little while. He locked his door quietly and retreated to the safety of his bed, leaning back on the comforter to stare out his window. It was a bright day outside.

Shana During was his first. Mostly.

He shut his eyes, thinking of how she'd felt beneath him, all sighs and hot breaths. It was nice. He'd been . . _inside_ her, for all of two minutes. She told him to stop.

"_I can't do this."_

He was polite about it. She apologised. They even cuddled afterwards. He still wondered what he'd done wrong, if he'd done some part of it incorrectly. After all, she was older, more experienced. How was he supposed to know?

And then three days later he had gotten a letter in the mail, from her. She was moving, far enough away that it mattered, but there was only one sentence that stood out to him.

_I'm sorry, but what I feel for you right now is more lust than anything, and I don't want to hurt you._

It didn't make sense to him. He was flattered, absolutely amazed that he could make anyone feel like that at all. How was this going to hurt him? It hurt much more that she was leaving, and leaving him. He'd wrote her back, saying that it was alright.

_I understand._

She promised to keep in contact with him in her reply, which he was happy for. It had now been almost three weeks since he'd sent his second letter and there was nothing from her, not one scrap. He worried sometimes that something happened to her, but his cousin talked about meeting up with Shana this weekend.

What he feared, of course, was that he'd been lied to. He'd been taken for a fool in a game of use or be used. So telling him that this was a good thing, that his feelings developed out of ignorance were something to be celebrated tore at his chest and everything inside. How did anyone cope with this? How did they live with themselves? Everything was uncertain and there were no answers, only his gut saying he was played.

Carlton thought one last time of Shana, her odd sense of humor and the way she insisted on everyone pronouncing her name 'Shah-nuh'. He'd insisted on saying 'Shay-nuh' instead, just to rankle her and smile when she'd fume and bet him a game of chess and football.

Never again, he decided. This would never happen again.

Many years later, Lassiter sat at the counter of his apartment nursing a glass of bourbon. Today was not a good day, or week, or whole fucking year really. He thought that he'd done right, that he had trusted someone who wouldn't toss him to the side when they were done. Well, he was wrong. And he was still coping just as badly. Something like this, on this scale, this couldn't possibly be lived through and come out whole on the other side. How? Just how?

He ducked his head onto the counter, shutting his eyes to the cold faux stone. He'd put it up himself, after convincing the landlord he had the skills to do so. His fingers abandoned the cold glass and counter to push into his once styled hair, now a little more unkempt.

He heard his phone ring, not far from him, laying innocently on the counter. Maybe if he ignored it, whoever it was would get the message and not call back. After the fifth ring it stopped, only to pick back up seconds later. Lassiter heaved a sigh and forced himself up, reaching across with a long arm to snag the device. For one terrifying he thought it might be- . . but it wasn't. It was only O'Hara.

"Lassiter." He answered, affecting his business tone.

"Hey, you okay? You left work early."

_He looked up from his desk to see Shawn standing just outside his personal space, a light smile gracing his lips. Lassiter tentatively smiled back, not sure where they were after . . . after last night. "Hi."_

"_Hey Lassie."_

"Yeah." He replied, slowly picking his words. "I needed some time off, to . ." Not have to see his face smiling around every corner? "I needed some time off."

"Okay . . . just you don't leave work early, ever. Not even when you broke your collarbone."

"I know."

"_I uh, I texted you. This morning."_

_There was a look of surprise. "You did? I didn't get anything." Shawn checked his phone with almost a flourish. Lassiter was beginning to get suspicious._

_Shawn hadn't been around when he'd woken up. The bed was cold, he'd been gone for a few hours at least. There wasn't a note or anything, the only thing left behind was the faint smell of him that caused Lassiter to smile faintly before he could think about it. He was happy._

There was silence on the line, the only thing he could hear was the ticking of his clock and the background noise of the station over the phone. "Did something happen? I mean, you looked like someone stole all your puppies and shot them."

" . . . No. I'm okay."

No, he wasn't.

_The morning was filled with his quiet routine, feelings and memories of warmth he'd never experienced before, or ever thought possible. But, there was an undercurrent, something that told him to worry. That he should be on the lookout for something and protect himself. He was too happy to care._

_Maybe he should be worried?_

_Seeing Shawn later tripled both feelings. He watched the man carefully, wondering what he should be looking for. He'd known that message sent. The service provider he had was good for being clear when something went through and when it didn't. It _was_ possible that Shawn's wasn't as reliable . . . but that's not what his gut said._

"_Are we good?"_

_Shawn seemed confused. "Yeah, course we are. Why?"_

_He shook his head. "Just checking."_

_This went on for another day or two, and Lassiter sent a couple more messages that got no replies. He was sure now._

"Lassiter—Carlton. You really don't sound like it."

His jaw clicked as he clenched his teeth. "I'll be fine O'Hara." No one had to know. Not how much this hurt, or who and how and why. He could break down on his own, he'd done it before. Just one day. That was all he wanted.

One day to be heartbroken.

"_Shawn."_

"_Lassie."_

"_Are we going to talk about this?" He could read the feigned confusion now._

"_About what?"_

"_This. Us." He gestured between them. "Whatever we're doing."_

_Shawn just looked at him. "We're not doing anything."_

_He didn't believe it. It was staring him right in the face and he didn't believe it. But Shawn looked on with his guileless, innocent expression and Lassiter got it. Friday never happened, Friday _night_ never happened. They never happened._

_Lassiter stood straight, nodding resolutely. "Okay." He worked with no reaction for all of ten minutes, before he couldn't do it anymore and walked calmly into the men's bathroom and locked the door behind him. He checked down each stall, just to make sure. With each one that was clear, he felt his calm facade slipping more and more until he could barely see into the last one as he slouched to his knees. _

_He was a fool, and he cried like one._

_He cleaned up some time later, making sure he was clear faced before he strode up to the chief's office, knocking on the open door._

"_Detective?"_

"_I'd like to take the day off, Chief."_

_Vick looked stunned for a moment. "Are you sick, Lassiter?"_

"_I have the vacation time." He swallowed. He was only holding on for now. "I'd like to take the day off." One day was all he wanted._

He could almost hear his partner debating on what to do, on whether or not she should be genuinely worried.

"It's just one day. I'm allowed that, right?"

"Of course." She replied automatically. "I don't mean that you don't deserve it . . I'm just worried. You don't take days off. It has to be serious." She gasped all of a sudden. "Is your sister okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. She's over in Colorado right now, taking some kind of special nature photography class."

"Oh that's cool."

"Yeah. She said she really likes it."

It was good to just talk about anything else. They chatted for around twenty minutes before O'Hara apologised and said that she had to get back to filling infernal reports and papers, earning a small smile out of him before they said their farewells. It was good to have a friend.

"_I love you, Carlton."_

He dropped his phone. The peace didn't last long. He wanted to laugh, muttering acidly to himself, "'There is no peace,' says the Lord, 'For the wicked.'"

_He stared, surprised. The words were taken right from his mouth, his heart. He'd kept them down, fearing the ridicule they might bring. He turned his head into the smaller man's cheek, grinning because he couldn't help himself now. " . . I love you too, Shawn."_

Never again.

* * *

Depressing, right? I swear I'm not like this all the time. Today was just special, I think.

Also, I just want to say I know the thing about the names sounds kinda stupid but that actually did happen to me, sort of. Their names were strikingly similar and it really struck me as odd, so I'm sorry if you thought it was ridiculous but it was an important element to me.


End file.
